


The Unwanted

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Depressed Dean Winchester, Gen, Heavy Angst, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Sam Winchester is a Little Shit, Suicide Attempt, but they try their best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2018-09-14
Packaged: 2019-07-12 08:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15991127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sam had left. He went off to become a lawyer and he no longer wanted or needed Dean.He tried not to let his pain and suffering show through, his dad had enough to deal with without a sulking kid to watch over. His dad needed him, and he was okay with that.But needing was not wanting.Needing was him having to be there so his dad didn't find himself dead at the bottom of a bottle. Needing was his dad floundering and instinctively reaching out to him, because Dean was always there. Dean was always willing to pull the load. He worked his ass off everyday so his dad would survive. That was needing.Wanting was sitting down at a bar to share a drink and actually talk to each other, instead of sitting in silence. Wanting was taking time to make sure your son was actually eating and sleeping. Wanting was making sure that your son was okay, not screaming for help like Dean was.His dad didn't want him, he needed him. And that was ten times worse.Because his dad was going to leave. He was going to leave dean just like Sam did. And dean wouldn't be be able to stop it.





	The Unwanted

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this first chapter includes a fairly detailed suicide attempt and descriptions of depression. Please do not read this if any of that triggers you. This was a self indulgent fic that I wrote a while ago and now want to share will all of you. This is my first attempt at writing Supernatural though, so be warned. I would love some feedback and comments from you guys. If you want to tell me how you like it, I would love that. But if you wanted to tell me I'm a horrible writer that's fine too, I would just appreciate any kind of feedback!!!

No one can explain how it feels like. No one wants to know.

Its like trying to grasp onto air. You keep trying and trying, all while hoping that you will get lucky and maybe, just maybe, you might get a grip, but you never do.

You hold onto the hope that your wanted, needed. You clutch onto that small sliver of air like your messed-up life depends on it, because to you it does. But then the air is flowing out of fingers again, and no matter how hard you try you can't regain your hold.

All it takes is one little smile, one little pat on the back and a good job, and suddenly your grasping at it again. Maybe this time he'll realize that you can be a good son. That you won't mess up. But that smile fades into a disappointed frown, and the air deflates out of your fingers once again.

He's been grasping at the straws for a while now. Lost at sea without anyone noticing. He kept on being pulled under, the water was always right at his lips, threatening to spill into his mouth to choke him.

Every since Sam left for college, he didn’t know what to do. His one job in life was taken away, the mat that kept him sane falling away as quickly as someone blinks. 

He floundered for a while after that, duly following his father like a sheep follows his shepherd. He was lost in a daze, his body operating without his permission. Without the one thing keeping him happy, his mental wall crumbled. Leaving his thoughts stuck in a constant repetition.

"He left. Sam left. He's in college now. He left. Sam left. He's in college now."

It took him a month to snap out of it. His dad needed him, he needed to be there to support his dad and make sure he doesn't drink himself to death.

 

So he rebuilt his crumbling walls and put in his trust mask. 

It was being calm on the outside but screaming bloody murder on the inside.

No one noticed, his dad got tired of his "broken inside" shit pretty fast, so when he regained it his dad was overjoyed. If overjoyed meant back to their normal dance of his dad ignoring his son and his son making sure his dad didn’t die. 

His dad's praise became ambrosia, rare, sweet, and intoxicating. It became his heroin, something he worked so damn hard to get, and when he did, the feeling faded fast.

He tried not to let his pain and suffering show through, his dad had enough to deal with without a sulking kid to watch over. His dad needed him, and he was okay with that. 

But needing was not wanting.

Needing was him having to be there so his dad didn’t find himself dead at the bottom of a bottle. Needing was his dad floundering and instinctively reaching out to him, because Dean was always there. Dean was always willing to pull the load. He worked his ass off everyday so his dad would survive. That was needing.

Wanting was sitting down at a bar to share a drink and actually talk to each other, instead of sitting in silence. Wanting was taking time to make sure your son was actually eating and sleeping. Wanting was making sure that your son was okay, not screaming for help like Dean was.

His dad didn’t want him, he needed him. And that was ten times worse. 

Because his dad was going to leave. He was going to leave Dean just like Sam did. And Dean wouldn't be able to stop it. 

Dean knew the split was coming fast. His dad was sending him on solo hunts more. Taking more time apart. Every time John left, Dean wondered if this would be the last time Dean saw him.

Then Dean would truly be alone.

_______________________________________

He stayed longer than Dean though he would.

It took John almost four years before he decided to leave. Till he realized just how pathetic and useless Dean was.

It happened fast, a simple ghost hunt in Arizona. A nice easy solo salt and burn. He was finished within two days, the baddie burned extra crispy. 

Dean drove to the required meeting place, but when his father wasn’t there he knew.

John was never late, so he was either dead or missing.

And John was a damn good hunter, there was no way he was dead.

His dad left.

He was all alone.

That’s where Dean found himself five hours later. Sitting on the floor with a half empty bottle of jack beside him cursing his alcohol resistance.

He would give anything to get drunk, forget all about the messed-up thing he called life. He could feel his mask slipping without anyone around. There was no one to keep up appearances for, so the mask slipped down and his walls crumbled into ruble.

And for the first time in almost 20 years, Dean let the tears slip down his face.

He was the person that needed to be needed. His whole life revolved around caring for someone. First it was Sammy. Look after Sammy, protect Sammy, put his life before yours. Deans life was dedicated to Sam

He learned how to change diapers, cook food, calm Sam down way before John even bothered to try. Dean was the only one who understood Sam, despite what Sam might think. Dean couldn't even count the amount of times he jumped in front of that week’s baddie to stop it from getting to Sam. How many times he withstood his father's punishment for something Dean didn’t even do.

Then Sam left, and Dean floundered. 

But then his father needed him, and Dean made sure John got sleep, ate, monitored him during hunts. He stood as calm and strong as a rock as his father screamed off his drink at him. And no matter what their father said, no matter how deep the wound ran, Dean always made sure his father was asleep in his bed with his shoes and socks off. 

And now his dad left too, and Dean was lost. 

Every feeling came pouring out of his, as swift and unforgiving as a river.

It was everything and nothing at once.

It was feeling so much he felt like he was exploding. And at the same time feeling as if someone emptied out all he emotions with a wooden spoon, leaving his empty and hollow inside.

Every moment of his life was based around his brother and father, so what did he have now? Only his fucked-up self. His brother didn't want him, his dad didn't want him, hell, Dean didn’t even want himself. So why was he still here?

The question ran through his head along with acceptance. They didn’t care, Dean didn’t care, no one cared about him, so why the hell was he still alive?

Dean didn't know, but he wanted that to change. For the first time in many years, Dean accepted that he wanted to leave. He didn’t care if it was cowardly, he was taking the easy way out. 

It was something he'd thought about for years, even back when Sammy was still around. Dean couldn't remember the last time he was truly happy, and he always wanted it to end. He wanted the constant worrying and suffering gone, he wanted out. But he didn't, because at the time he was still needed. 

But now?

There was nothing stopping him.

No one would care or know he was gone. Dad would wake up everyday like nothing was wrong, like he didn't abandon his son. And Sam would wake up and go to classes, hang out with his geeky friends and become a lawyer. Neither of them would know or care.

So Dean smiled as he felt the tear run down his cheek. He was finally ending it, the constant suffering, the constant hiding, it would all be over soon.

He couldn't wait.

So Dean put down his bottle and pick up his hunting knife. 

And like a kid on Christmas day he sat on the floor and admired the sharp blade. It glistening lethally in the dull light, it was sharp. Sharp enough that when Dean applied a small amount of pressure blood was welling up on his finger tip. The pain felt good. He deserved it for the amount of times he failed.

Slowly, Dean took a breath and placed the blade against his left arm, closing his eyes and exhaling.

"Sorry dad, sorry Sammy, I failed you both, I hope you guys enjoy your life without me, it should be better without me bringing you down." Dean whispered into the air.

And without a second thought, Dean slid the blade over his wrist horizontally near the top of his arm. He carefully moved the blade down and repeated the action again and again. He reached his elbow before he corrected the blade and sliced vertically down, successfully cutting his arm open.

The pain was immediate and Dean almost stopped, but he took a breath and did it again to his other arm. 

He could feel the blood running down his arms, warm thick and plentiful. Already feeling faint, he laid back laughing at the mixture of blinding pain and pleasure in his arms.

He could feel his strength failing, the pain slowly edging away as he slipped toward unconsciousness. 

One last thought ran through his mind before he surrendered into the darkness;

I'm sorry Dad and Sam. You both deserved better.

_______________________________________

Ella Smith was almost done her nightly rounds, only one more room to clean before she could go home and relax into the warm arms of her lover.

She knocked loudly on the door, listening closely to make sure no one was inside. 

"Housekeeping sir!" She called out, no response, the man must be out.

Humming a tune to herself, she pulled out her key and quickly unlocked the door, grabbing her supply cart and entering the room 

Her heart stopped as she witnessed the sight before her. 

Blood was everywhere, covering the floor, staining the carpets, and all over the man’s arms. And Oh my god he slit his wrists.

Ella panicked, her body moving without realising it. She grabbed a bunch of clean white towels before rushing into the room, wasting no time applying the pressure to try and stop the blood flow. 

She shakily reached into her coat pocket, grabbing her phone to call 911.

Listening to the instructions, she kept applying pressure, waiting impatiently for the paramedics to arrive. 

The young man below her was pale and bloodied, his pulse getting weaker and weaker.

Ella heard the sirens and thanked the lord for a close by hospital.

Seconds later she was being pulled away as paramedics were quickly doing their job.

Minutes felt like eternity as Ella watched them load the young man into the back, time becoming a blur as she stood to the side, colors, sound and thoughts blurring into one.

She answered the police's questions shakily, not really believing what just occurred. She watched the ambulance rush off and felt tears running down her face. 

Three hours later she was indeed laying in her lover arms, but the image of the beautiful bloodied young man kept flashing into her mind.

She prayed to god that he survived, even if he wanted to die.

_______________________________________

Dean was floating in a blurry haze of pain and confusion.

Thousands of feeling were flying through his pain filled mind, but the strongest one was disappointment. If he was feeling, that meant he was alive.

God, he couldn't even succeed in killing himself.

He knew his mind was climbing back to awareness, but all he wanted to do was sleep, he wanted to sleep and never wake up. He didn’t want to wake up in a world where he was unwanted. 

But nothing ever went the way Dean wanted, so slowly but surely he woke up.

White walls, white ceiling, stuffy smell of death and forgotten dreams, he was in a hospital.

Damn it.

He looked around, noting the what seemed like hundreds of machines surrounding him, an IV was in his arm, a heart monitor was beeping, and his arms were tender and sore. 

All in all, this day sucked. He could hear commotion outside, but no one came in to check on him. 

He looked at his arms, studying the crisp white bandages around them, they were pulsing with pain, and that pain only increased when he moved them.

He looked around again, his eyes narrowing down on the window on the other side of the room, the perfect escape route.

Suddenly he heard the door start to open, he shut his eyes closed, focusing on regulating his breathing so it sounded normal again. 

He felt someone moving around him, heard the scratching of pen on paper and then heard someone sigh. He tried not to flinch as he felt a hand lay on top of his arm.

"Wake up soon sir, I know you can fight this. I may not know you but I can guarantee that everything will get better if you wake up. Cone back soon kid." A soft caring voice came from above him. Seconds later the door clucked shut again and Dean let out a breath he was holding.

Opening his eyes he checked to make sure the coast was clear before climbing out of bed. 

He was an idiot, a selfish bastard. His dad was missing, he could get hurt without Dean, how could he be such a coward and try to end it? 

As far as Dean knew his dad could have left willingly or unwillingly, Dean had to track him down to make sure he was okay.

Maybe he should get Sammy, the kid had a right to know what happened to his dad.

Ignoring the blinding pain, Dean crawled out of bed and removed all the wires. He quickly crossed to the window and jumped put into the night.

His heart was no where near close to fixed, but his dad needed him. So he would fight for him, keep hunting to save other people, he would keep doing what he did. Because Dean Winchester was not a coward, he didn't take the easy way out.


End file.
